


Your pretty girl, when you want it

by towards_morning



Series: Banners from the Turrets [22]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (the genderplay is a weird xeno thing for the robots, Choking, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Fanfiction of someone else's fanfiction!, Genderplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, because robots can have weird kinks too)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards_morning/pseuds/towards_morning
Summary: "It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about this. At length. Deadlock knew what to expect. Rung had gone through it with him in excruciating detail. Not that it was bad, listening to him outline it in careful, measured tones, stopping to ask Deadlock what he thought, what he wanted to be called, how he wanted to be touched, peering over his glasses at him as he listened intently-Anyway. Yeah. Excruciating detail."(PWP based on/set in theBanners From the Turretsseries.)
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Rung
Series: Banners from the Turrets [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1265390
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Your pretty girl, when you want it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neveralarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/gifts), [DesdemonaKaylose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaKaylose/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Castle in the Sand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021023) by [DesdemonaKaylose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaKaylose/pseuds/DesdemonaKaylose), [neveralarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch). 



> I was asked to come write Rung/Deadlock porn for [Banners from the Turrets](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1265390). And so I did. Here's a few thousand words of the alternate universe of that series where Rung comes to Deadlock to get the kinky shit Megs and Starscream don't like out his system.
> 
> Why is there weird genderplay in here? Because even giant alien robots wind up with weird kinks given enough alien species encountered! (Seriously though, this fic contains a male character being consensually referred to with feminising language- if you have dysphoria around that, tread light.)
> 
> Thanks to Des and Nev for letting me come play in their sandbox. Title from Prophet by King Princess.

“Stop fidgeting,” Rung says from across the berth. Deadlock startles and does his best to comply, the hand worrying a seam on his leg flexing and then curling into a fist. Rung watches him another moment before nodding.

“That’s it,” he says, voice going all warm and approving, and Deadlock clenches that fist, clenches his jaw, clenches half his body to stop his plating rattling and thinks  _ oh slag _ for the hundredth time so far tonight. Rung has barely said or done a thing, but his sheer focus has Deadlock squirming in a way that would be embarrassing if he wasn’t still so blindsided by the fact Rung was turning that focus on  _ him _ . Vulnerability was not a turn on for Deadlock. It had been too much a thing that ended badly to be anything but a threat. But looking at Rung now, all steady and sure, Deadlock thinks he might have an exception in him after all.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about this. At length. Deadlock knew what to expect. Rung had gone through it with him in excruciating detail. Not that it was  _ bad _ , listening to him outline it in careful, measured tones, stopping to ask Deadlock what he thought, what he wanted to be called, how he wanted to be touched, peering over his glasses at him as he listened intently-

Anyway. Yeah. Excruciating detail. Deadlock had been vibrating as he settled down on this berth two days later not from nerves but expectation. The fidgeting was the same, his fans halfway to full blast already just from sprawling here a few scant metres away with his knees under him and hands balling up tight against them, desperate to touch but held still by sheer force of will.

Rung only smiles at him and continues, the toy in his hands sliding back into his valve smoothly. Deadlock flicks his optics between that smile and those clever fingers working it in. Rung chose something big and plain, just a solid chunk of silicone, enough to stretch his valve lips and push out his node on the in-stroke. Above the honestly kind of embarrassing drone of Deadlock’s fans, whirring without a touch, he can just barely hear its vibration when Rung pulls it out, almost slipping fully free before Rung grinds back in a little deeper. He catches sight of a small drip of lubricant dragged out by the motion, slick and reflecting the bright light of Rung’s half-swollen node as it smears across mesh. Deadlock can’t take his eyes off it.

His hands flex so hard he thinks there might be dents left on his palms when he checks them as he watches Rung open his legs a measure wider and bring his other hand down to stroke where his pussy stretches widest around the toy. The mesh there just starting to swell as he fucks himself open, too slow to even be called a rhythm.

“Mm,” Rung groans, lost in his own enjoyment. Not opening his panels  _ right this second _ is just about the hardest thing Deadlock has done in his life to date, and he’s including every time he held off on scrapping Starscream in that assessment. “Now then, Deadlock?”

The mention of his name snaps Deadlock to attention more quickly than he wants to admit. Watching Rung is wonderful; the reminder that Rung asked for him here, just him, only him-

“Yes?” he says, holding back a wince at how quick and eager it comes out. He knows Rung notices. Not just because Rung notices everything but also because when Deadlock’s optics drag back up to his face, laid bare without his usual glasses, Rung’s smile has turned less gentle and more amused. Deadlock doesn’t take his eyes away as he hears Rung slide the toy out with a slick sound, background hum cutting off after a moment. Deadlock would rather die than admit how much he melts under that gaze. It’s wonderful.

“Come over here,” Rung instructs. He sounds steady still, which would normally have Deadlock working overtime to undo him, but here and now only makes something in his spark want to lie down and say thank you. Deadlock wishes he better understood why but obliges anyway.

As Deadlock complies, shuffling awkwardly until he’s between- not Rung’s legs, just barely at his feet,  _ oh Primus don’t think that- _ Rung rests the toy in his hand against a knee, looking thoughtfully at Deadlock as though he’s barely been doing anything at all, optics fully clear. The only hint at his prior activity is the slightest hum of his fans, barely audible next to Deadlock’s screeching ones. As though his drooling valve isn’t right now dripping onto the berth below him. All his attention on Deadlock now, as though he’s worth more than another good overload. Primus _. _

Deadlock can’t stop staring at that toy. It really is big. Rung’s valve had been all stretched when it came out, soft and made ready; it’s gorgeous. Deadlock clears his vocalizer and settles as comfortably as he can manage.

“Good girl,” Rung says approvingly when he sees Deadlock come to a stop, and at that every strut in Deadlock’s frame tries to simultaneously freeze and melt, producing the most embarrassing clatter of noise Deadlock thinks he’s ever made in his life.  _ Oh Primus,  _ he thinks again, as Rung actually laughs softly this time. Right. He'd almost forgotten.

That bit had been the hardest Rung worked to drag something out of him when they were trading words beforehand. Decepticons weren’t supposed to want weird alien slag in the berth. Bad politics, not to mention- well it’s pretty gross, really. If he actually stops to think about it properly he gets stuck between “slag that’s hot” and “what the frag” pretty quick. Deadlock can’t even really remember where he’d picked up on that particular… thing. He has a sinking suspicion it might have been somewhere full of organics and tries very hard not to think about that part too much. He’s not even totally sure what it means, literally at least- but it  _ still  _ feels like Rung has poured ice water and hot oil both all over him when he says it. His chest goes all soft and molten like his whole chassis might collapse in on itself. The lick of charge up his backstrut slagging  _ hurts  _ it feels so good. He knows what it means in Rung’s mouth, at least, and he wants that enough to have asked for it aloud against every instinct. That much he can allow himself. Every inch is hard to give but for Rung, Deadlock will give a mile, any day.

In the short pause, Rung has noticed Deadlock’s optics locked on the toy and he strokes a finger over it teasingly. Deadlock feels himself swallow and without his permission his hands reach out to touch, but Rung pulls it back. Deadlock’s fingers hover near where it was. Just over Rung’s knee. He wants to ask for this too, but for all Rung’s kind insistence, he’s not sure how to yet. He knows how to ask to take. He’s unused to how you ask to be given.

“Is that what you want?” Rung says, shaking his head, cutting into his agonized overthinking. “Well I can clean it off if you like then-”

“No,” Deadlock blurts, his vocalizer finally unwinding. “No, it’s fine, just-”

“Deadlock, sweetspark,” Rung says, “It’s dirty.” He bats Deadlock’s hands darting in to take it away and Deadlock bites his lip in frustration, leaning forward a little more.

“Please,” he says, “Don’t wipe it off, I can do it.”  _ For you _ , he bites down on. It hurts to admit even without saying. A good hurt, Deadlock thinks, watching Rung hungrily as he leans in and aches to think of this being something special he can offer.

At his offer, Rung looks up from where he had been fussing over it. His eyes go keen. Deadlock shifts and tries not to look desperate, which is a pretty hard sell when he’s got one hand braced on the berth, half leant over to try and snatch the slick thing out of Rung’s hand. He’s not even sure what he wants with it, only that it had been inside Rung and he can see that and now he wants to feel it too. Rung had said no siphoning, and that was a boundary Deadlock would accept- but he wanted  _ something _ of Rung’s body in him, he thought. When Rung had asked what he wanted, Deadlock had tried so hard not to just say  _ everything _ , a dangerous thing to offer. Even to someone Deadlock trusted as much as Rung. But it hadn’t been untrue. Everything. Anything. Something unwise Deadlock couldn’t risk with someone less aggressively kind.

“Well,” Rung says slowly after a moment, “I suppose I don’t see why not.”

Sitting up straighter now, Rung reaches out and strokes Deadlock’s arm before gently tugging him to fully crouch in his lap. “Come over here then, open up, there’s a good girl.”

Deadlock does so on instinct the moment Rung finishes those two words and when the toy pushes past his lips something in his processor shorts and he moans, high and desperate, a sound he honestly didn’t know he could even make. It tastes bitter and the fluids coat his tongue and when Rung just keeps pushing it  _ in _ he has to shut off his optics. One hand comes up to steady Deadlock’s helm but he barely feels it as the toy goes further and further. It’s not quite like a spike; it’s more yielding, softer on the tongue, but fully straight and when Rung hits the back of his mouth and begins to gently work it down his intake a bit, Deadlock feels every inch. It’s forceful in a way that Deadlock didn’t know existed, gentle and inexorable by turns, and the spark of charge that lights him up bowls him over even as he tries to work out how the pit he can cycle his intake wider.

By the time it’s fully in Deadlock can feel drool slipping down his chin, head tilted back for easier access with Rung’s hand softly stroking his jaw as he holds it in place. All his senses have narrowed down to that gentle touch and the pressure that feels like it goes halfway down to his spark chamber, that acrid taste on his tongue as he tries to suck it off. “That’s wonderful,” he hears distantly as he tries to work out how the his optics turn back on, “That’s perfect, just like that.” Rung pulls it just a little out and thrusts back in, Deadlock frantically working to try and press his tongue against it, oral solvent collecting and spilling out freely. Another thrust. The drool only gets worse. He’d be embarrassed if he had the spare processor power to be anything but turned on.

Just as his optics start to finally online again he feels Rung’s hand shift down to gently stroke down the line of Deadlock’s throat. His fingers skip over a bulge, and after a moment of confusion Deadlock realises it must be showing through the cables, stretching his mesh intake wide. He desperately tries to manually stop his panels disengaging at the thought while his optics struggle to adjust to light as they cycle back online, and just as he thinks he has it under control the next stroke down of Rung’s fingers presses just that bit harder and Deadlock chokes.

Dimly, he’s aware that at long last, Rung’s fans start up properly at that. It’s hard to focus enough to feel smug about it as he tries desperately to keep his spasming, overfull intake under control beneath the increasing force of Rung’s fingers.

Rung wraps them loosely around the bulge, pressing just a little and says over Deadlock’s choked struggling, “There, do you like that? You look lovely like this. So pretty,” which, Deadlock’s chest does that  _ thing _ again at the last part, about as much as he thinks he can handle before his systems actually decide a hard reboot is in order. The hand tightens again and Deadlock opens every damn vent he has, he is  _ not _ going to purge, he can do this, can ride it out-

“So pretty,” Rung says, voice a little rougher now. “You’ve taken it so well, can you feel it?” Another squeeze and Deadlock would moan if he wasn’t trying so damn hard to hold himself together. “You do like it, don’t you. Of course you do,  _ such _ a good girl for me. You were right, this is much better, isn’t it?” Deadlock wishes he could nod like this. He does, he is.

And then Rung is pulling the toy out in one smooth motion and Deadlock is left gasping, trying to rebalance as his throat flexes and gapes on air, suddenly empty. When he refocuses his optics, Rung’s hand back to gently stroking his throat as Deadlock tries to raise a shaking hand to wipe away some of the drool and regain his composure. He sees Rung looking the toy over. Inspecting it.

“Perfect,” Rung says, setting it down at his side. “Oh, darling, let me- here.”

His hands reach up and gently finish the work of wiping away the drying tracks of drool around Deadlock’s mouth. They linger, thumbs cupping the side of his face. Rung’s fans are still whirring and the rush of hot air combined with knowing  _ I did that _ has Deadlock shuddering as he draws a little closer, emboldened.

“C’mon, let’s keep going, I can do one better,” he says, and frowns when Rung pulls back slightly. Deadlock rushes to continue. “You want me to fuck you now?” He’d drop a hand down to frame his panel enticingly, except if he does that it’s absolutely not going to stay closed and also he might actually burn his digits the heat has gotten so bad where it’s tightly locked.

Rung tuts. “That’s not how we ask for things, Deadlock,” he says. Deadlock squirms. Alright, yes, they had agreed on  _ ask don’t tell _ for him in the scene and all that, but his panel is getting- really hot. It’s hard to remember the etiquette. Without any conscious thought his spike pops open altogether, and the loss of control has Deadlock spinning even as he fights to keep his valve closed like he knows he should. Like he knows Rung wants. His spike is a lost cause now though, aching in the empty air, so tense as he fights not to rut desperately against Rung's thigh.

“I’ll make it good, you know I will, just lemme-” he’s cut off when Rung moves one hand to pinch his chin between thumb and finger. He leans in, looking disapproving.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t talk like that,” he says, radiating disapproval. “And bad girls don’t get to come, remember.”

It’s hard to cut himself off. Every part of him is screaming  _ go, keep going _ , even as Deadlock bites his lip and tries so hard to pull back, to wait. But he does, pulling himself so tight he vibrates, his now-dripping neglected spike involuntarily twitching. He wants to be a good girl. He wants Rung to keep threatening him. He wants to be told exactly what to do, everything else be damned, only that, only Rung. He wants so badly to show how good he can be, how grateful he is Rung has given him this chance, but he knows Rung wants just his patience- nothing less will satisfy him.

Rung lets Deadlock hang there for a moment more, watches him squirm, before finally finally he laughs. It sounds lovely. “You can start-” he says, and then suddenly he’s gasping as Deadlock sinks in immediately with his spike, hooking hands under those thighs and pushing straight in. Rung huffs another laugh, but he doesn’t sound so level anymore when Deadlock begins to thrust.

“-and don’t come before I do, alright, darling?” Rung finishes. He’s bent back on himself on the berth now, split open, and still Deadlock shudders at the authority in that voice. Nothing too demanding, just a calm and quiet order that has Deadlock desperate to meet his standards. Nothing demeaning. Rung speaks like he knows Deadlock can do whatever he asks without question.

“Rung,” is all he manages before he loses himself. Deadlock is fucking Rung now, splitting Rung’s valve open. It feels as soft as it had looked. He pants. He thrusts into that welcoming, open heat. Rung bends his knees back a bare inch more and smiles, altogether too satisfied.

“You can do better than that,” Rung says even as he pulls his own legs back to display his now swollen valve. “I know you can, sweet, come on-”

Deadlock restrains a sob and fucks in as hard as he can. He’s used to fucking, he loves fucking, but it’s never felt like this. Offering up his valve had once seemed like the most vulnerable compromise he could give; an exchange made special for its rarity. The way he feels raw and exposed as he drives his spike home here makes that seem irrelevant now. Rung’s hand finds its way to his neck as Deadlock frantically works to keep grinding in. Nothing demanding, just a constant soft pressure as Deadlock feels himself build back up to his climax and ruthlessly clamps down on it in turn. Rung’s hand is possessive, something not threatening as much as it simply holds him. Deadlock thrusts his spike as hard as he can, it’s too much, but Rung is looking at him, Rung is smiling as he gasps, Rung is so-

“Yes,” Rung says, legs spreading another inch, “Come on, I know you can- you can frag me better-” There are going to be dents all over him. Deadlock doesn’t stifle the sob this time as he tries to push that bit harder.

Deadlock holds himself back from coming even as his hips piston so hard it hurts. Rung is making noise under him and it’s not helping that at  _ all _ .  _ Don’t finish _ , he thinks desperately,  _ keep going keep going keep- _

“Good- good girl-” Rung chokes out. Deadlock’s whole world has narrowed down to not just Rung but the signs of Rung’s pleasure, the signs of oncoming overload, he wants Rung to overload so badly and he wants Rung to feel it, he wants to be the cause of that slowly unravelling feeling, he wants- he wants-

“Deadlock,” Rung says, voice finally breaking as he overloads. The feeling of his valve erratically clenching is incredible. He comes undone as he finishes, raw as he cries out. One hand tightening on Deadlock’s throat, another trying to pull his hips in harder, both optics bright as he rides it out, using Deadlock’s spike mindlessly for his own release. Half rutting as he grinds his valve open. And then  _ finally _ Deadlock gets to let himself go. He holds back a yell as he comes, transfluid hot where it spurts out and then pools back against his frantic spike as he thrusts into Rung’s valve. It’s so good.

But still almost an afterthought to how it feels to watch Rung release around him, going slack. It sends shudders through him when as he finally collapses, Rung finds the energy as he comes down from his own climax to stroke down Deadlock’s back and press a kiss to Deadlock’s cheek, bleary and sincere. The fondness would do Deadlock in if he weren’t already spent.

“Good girl,” Rung manages, sounding slurred even as he pulls Deadlock into an embrace. For his part, Deadlock has never felt a better kind of tired than he does now. The fond epithet sends an aftershock through him. Not charge, per se. He just feels like he’s done something  _ right _ when he hears it.

This part, he knows how to do. Deadlock snaps his panels shut over all their combined mess and pulls Rung to him. It feels wonderful to throw an arm over the smaller mech. When Rung accepts it, Deadlock feels his spark could burst.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Rung is trying to keep his optics online, still stroking down Deadlock’s back. “It’s alright, don’t worry,” Deadlock says, reassuring. “Shh,” he murmurs, “Relax.” Rung loosens his struts and curls in towards him. Perfect.

Rung is on the verge of recharge already. Seeing him so undone after how in control he was a moment before is a lot to take in. Deadlock curls up around the smaller frame and lets his own recharge protocols begin to wind him down, thrilling when Rung throws an arm around his waist. Rung is clumsy with exhaustion, but still looking at Deadlock. Right at him.

“Good-” Rung manages, and Deadlock cuts him off with a kiss. His turn to take care now.

“You too,” he says, and the answering hum sends warmth right through him, down to his spark.  _ Good, _ he thinks as he drifts off. Yeah. Good.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Twitter at [auto_thots](http://twitter.com/auto_thots).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [now she going both ways](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844996) by [harperuth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth)




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